It was a mistake to look up to his argent eyes for they are a sea of stars and she finds herself climbing higher and higher into them. Oh to be surrounded there, to be a thing of starlight there, held together by moonlight magic and the dust of the night. Her soul is made of twilight and sleepy whispers and her heart of starlight and love’s confessions.
She is still lost in the silver heights of his eyes when he affirms his love. He lowers his gaze to hers but Florentine does not begin to fall, instead her breath tangles with his as he smothers her in jasmine and declarations she does not know how to handle.
He might kill her with this love of theirs, for her heart is just that wild, and yet it is with resolute gladness that she builds her pyre, higher, higher.
Reichenbach looks away and Florentine is tumbling down from where his gaze had held her. She stagger–steps closer to be caught by his shoulder and snag upon his heart.
He reaches to her neck and the tangle of flowers and hair, plucking from its nest a lavender flower. How many times had flowers been plucked from her mane? She does not think to count, for none so matter as much as this and the flower he has plucked.
Calligo weaves her magic into the laughter of voices and the dance of flames whose lights lick and flicker across their skin. The dusk girl and her night boy are swathed in smoke and incense, lost into the thrall of revelry. The bonfire is bewitching and Florentine closes her eyes to it, pressing her cheek into the crook of her lovers shoulder. She listens to the jingle of gypsy coins and not even they can drown out Bexley’s name.
It makes her a tangle of joy and sorrow. Relief is sweet for he is not angry and he knows. “Did she tell you?”
A glimpse of trade carts catch her gaze and slowly the flower girl peels herself from his side as curiosity sharpened her amethyst gaze. “I was a pick pocket once.” She breathes as she watches the crowds around each stall; a tangle of commerce. Florentine does not linger to consider whether she had ever told this boy of her former lives.
She casts him an impish smile as she falls into the crowds, weaving and pushing and dancing her way towards the lines of carts and wares. Sweet confectionary lays their fragrances upon her tongue, and her eyes glitter as they take in foreign gems set within lavish jewellery. “You have quite the eclectic market here, Your Majesty.” The Dusk girl notes with a playful smile upon her lips. She leads her night boy on through the crowds as she lets herself be won by charming salesmen and the bustle of the nighttime crowds.
@Reichenbach
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
